


Sky Princess

by DaniJayNel



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: AU, Clexa, F/F, Short prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-31
Updated: 2015-10-26
Packaged: 2018-04-02 04:49:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4046665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaniJayNel/pseuds/DaniJayNel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: clexa superpower AU where Lexa is a shapeshifter and Clarke is a bit of a narcissist</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Show yourself!” Clarke called out fiercely. She narrowed her eyes and used her vision to see through the walls and random objects littering the abandoned warehouse. It didn’t take long to spot the body crouched low to the right, behind a trashed car. Clarke felt her irritation rise. She had been tracking this person for a week, and somehow she always managed to lose them. This once she cornered the culprit in this building, but for how long would they stay? They had a knack for disappearing.

Apparently the person had realized that Clarke could see them, because they stood and slowly rounded the car, and when Clarke made to yell out another command, she stopped short and held her breath, confused. Staring at her with a lifted brow and a frown was… herself?

“Who are you?” Clarke asked.

The other Clarke lifted her head and squared her shoulders. “That is not your concern, Sky Princess.”

The blonde stepped forward, glass crunching underneath her boots, her cape billowing slightly at her back as a breeze came in through the many broken windows. “Why do you look like me?” she asked the other Clarke.

“To help people,” she answered. “Which is why you are going to fly out of here and forget that you saw me.”

Clarke stepped forward once more, but the other Clarke didn’t make a move to escape or step back. She merely stood stiffly, back ramrod straight, hands unclenched at her sides. Clarke noticed the slight tension at her jaw, which was the only real indication that this impostor was somewhat nervous.

“I won’t hurt you,” Clarke told the fake, her voice soft. “We want to help you.”

“I don’t need _help_ ,” the fake spat. “You aren’t the only one that has special abilities, Clarke. You aren’t the only one that gets to help people.”

Clarke furrowed her brow and hid her alarm. How did this person know her real name? She wore a cape, a mask, and hid under the popular name of ‘Sky Princess’, which wasn’t the best name but one the media and public had latched onto. Clarke would have liked Superwoman, but she couldn’t be picky.

“You can’t run around with my face,” Clarke told her. “You can’t save people like I can.”

The fake Clarke shuddered for a moment, form shaking as if she was about to crumble into pieces. Clarke suddenly realized that this was a shape shifter, and she bit down on her tongue. _That’s_ why she hadn’t been able to catch her!

“This isn’t **your** city.”

“It is,” Clarke shot back. “This city needs me. I save them each and every day. They love me. Not you. I can’t let you run around with a cape and act like you’re some hero.”

The fake Clarke stepped forward then, strode all the way until they were but a breath apart. Clarke watched as the eyes identical to her own became murky and dark, and then shifted to green. Swallowing, she made to move, but then a hand clamped down on her arm and she grimaced.

“Tell me,” the fake breathed. Her eyes flicked down to Clarke’s lips, lingered for a moment and then travelled back up to her face. “Do you really think they love you that much?”

She shifted then, becoming someone else entirely, muscles and bones changing and moving, forming something else. Clarke shuddered and looked away. The shape shifter had taken her mother’s form.

“Tell me, Clarke,” she said, sounding so much like Abby that it made the blonde entirely too uncomfortable. She could easily move away, throw the person across the room. She could make herself invisible and just escape, or knock the fake out and return to HQ. But she didn’t. The shifter changed again, to a young man. He smiled, his doe eyes imploring her to spill her secrets. Then the face changed again, and again. To all the people Clarke had in her life. And then finally they morphed back to her own face, and Clarke felt a small pang that told her she had missed it—her own face. She breathed a sigh. “Do they love you,” the shifter continued, leaning in now. It was strange, to watch her own face close in, her own lips part, her own eyes stare with a fierceness Clarke knew she could never really muster herself. She shut her eyes just as she felt lips on her own. “Or do you simply love yourself?” the other Clarke finished into the kiss, and then she pulled away, blurring into an undistinguishable shadow, turning to leave.

“Wait!” Clarke reached for her, but the shifter was already across the warehouse. However, they had abandoned Clarke’s face, and those green eyes from before stared over, fierce and angry and _strong._ “What is your real name?”

The woman paused, a slow smirk forming on her lips. Had Clarke not possessed supernatural hearing, she would have missed the answer.

“My name is Lexa, but you’ll soon know me as Heda.”

Clarke could have raced forward and stopped the shifter, Lexa, from leaving. But her lips still tingled, her heart pounded in her chest. She let her go, and Lexa melted into the shadows and disappeared.

Clarke was brought back quickly when Raven began yelling in her earpiece, having seen the whole thing on the camera attached to Clarke’s superhero suit.

“What the hell, Clarke? I know you think you’re hot shit, but making out with yourself?”

Clarke flushed. “Shut up, Raven,” she growled softly. She shot up into the sky, bursting a hole through the roof, and soared through the clouds to her next mission. “She distracted me.”

Raven snorted. “Yeah. How could you resist yourself?”

“Raven.”

“There’s a robbery down town, Clarke. Sunset view. Go and do your thing.”

Clarke sighed, wondered who Lexa really was, and shot through the sky like a bullet. She would never admit it, but part of her had always wondered what kissing herself would feel like. She supposed that now she knew.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone requested this on tumblr, so here it is. I was oddly inspired XD also Clarke/Clarke really amuses me. Have fun! (Also, this will be the last. I won’t write more for this particular AU. Thank you for reading)

“Show me,” Clarke breathed. “That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?”

Lexa sat on Clarke’s bedroom windowsill, a leg lazily dangling side to side. She wasn’t shifted. She was in her own skin—Clarke assumed that it was, at least—but her back was towards Clarke, hiding her face. Somehow Clarke got the sense that Lexa was smirking, playing with her. Why else would she show up? _Again?_

This had been going on for months now after their initial meeting. Clarke thought that Lexa couldn’t stand her, but now she saw Lexa everywhere. It wasn’t always ‘Lexa’, though, but Clarke’s abilities allowed her to spot the shifter anywhere, anytime, with any face. It was still too difficult to catch her, though.

Lexa heaved a sigh but continued to stare out at the street, almost brooding. “Maybe it is,” she spoke. “And maybe it isn’t. Maybe you call me here, Clarke.”

Clarke’s brows furrowed. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Lexa finally turned then, brown hair sizzling down to blonde, dark eyes melting into blue, and then Clarke was finally staring at herself again, and she had to bite back a relieved sigh.

_Oh god this is bad,_ Clarke thought. _She knows my weakness and is using it against me._

“After we met,” Shifter-Clarke spoke, that same husky voice sounding a tad bit more attractive now, coming from another source. It made Clarke’s belly hot, and she shifted uncomfortably where she stood in the middle of her room.

“Yeah?”

“I became interested in you.”

“I don’t swing that way,” Clarke shot back desperately even though she _so clearly_ did.

Shifter-Clarke gracefully—more gracefully than Clarke herself actually could—dropped from the windowsill and glided smoothly over to her, smirking knowingly, eyes bright and mischievous. “Oh, really? So why do I always need to be you to get to you, hmm?”

Clarke swallowed. _Does she know? How can she know?_ “Because seeing my own face rather than your own is relaxing.” She winced slightly. _Damnit, that still sounded too weird._

Shifter-Clarke titled her head, and then she was insufferably close, a warm hand lifted to cup Clarke’s cheek. Clarke could smell her own scent wash over her from Shifter-Clarke, and it was almost too much.

_She does know! She’s been doing this to mess with me, damnit!_

“What’s the matter, Clarke?” Shifter-Clarke asked, smirking. Clarke herself could never smirk like that—like a predator, satisfied and victorious, drunk on the smugness of it all. It was making Clarke’s head swim.

“You’re too close,” she choked out.

“I thought this face made you more comfortable?” Lexa as Clarke asked, mocking. Her amusement drained away to delight, and she bit lightly into her lip before pulling Clarke flush against her, an arm around her waist and the other drifting a hand into her soft blonde hair. “Or does this form make you feel something else entirely?” she asked.

Clarke was breathing fast. Her hands clutched at Shifter-Clarke’s shoulders, and she couldn’t deny that yes, yes it did. Something _completely_ different. Something dirty and wrong. But the more she thought it dirty, the hotter it only became.

_I want to do myself,_ Clarke thought in utter, shocked clarity. _I actually want to do myself._

Clarke took the initiative this time, upset by her revelation and the fact that Lexa had forced her into it, and decided to shock her. She grabbed that face, the replica of her own, and then captured her own lips—though they were Lexa’s, and only looked like hers. Shifter-Clarke didn’t seem surprised though, she only hummed in satisfaction and then pushed Clarke back until she tipped over and landed on the bed.

“Seriously? Does nothing creep you out?”

Shifter-Clarke straddled her waist, still grinning, eyes still shining with that sick glee. “Not when I’m having this much fun, Clarkie.”

“Don’t call me Clarkie.”

“I will call you whatever I want, Clarke,” she husked, dipping down to kiss her again, long and languid, tongues gliding and teeth nipping. Clarke whimpered underneath her, trying to remind herself that this was Lexa she was kissing, not herself, but it was so easy to forget when all she could taste was herself. She was beyond trying to deny this and make herself guilty for it. And maybe she was attracted to Lexa too?

A hand slipped underneath Clarke’s shirt, and she inhaled sharply as her stomach fluttered, burned, _coiled_ with desire. She wanted something to actually happen this time, but before she could say so, her bedroom door burst open.

“Clarke, about what hap—” Raven froze mid-sentence at the door.

Shifter-Clarke didn’t even stop the kiss, so Clarke had to shove her off—nearly sending her through the wall—and hurriedly scrambled to her feet.

“Really?” Raven asked, an eyebrow hiked high. “Again?”

“What?” Clarke huffed, panting. “It’s not what it looks like.”

“You know she’s only fucking with you, right?” Raven looked towards Lexa, who was back in her own skin, still smirking, still smug. “Or rather, making you fuck with yourself.” Despite the embarrassing situation Raven looked like she was enjoying herself.

Clarke took the opportunity to turn herself invisible and hide. “Shut up,” she growled.

“Oh my god, are you actually hiding now?” Raven laughed and clutched at her stomach. She sent Lexa a look. “I hope whatever you’re doing is worth it,” she said. “I’m tired of walking in on Clarke-on-Clarke action.”

Lexa straightened and shifted in a flash. She stared back now, with Raven’s face but her own smirk. “I can always accommodate if you’re lonely,” she husked, sauntering closer. “Or would like to join.”

Raven’s face contorted in panic as she watched herself move closer, and then Shifter-Raven was close, their lips inches apart. Raven swallowed. Her eyes flicked to where she thought Clarke was, to see her visible again and glaring. Rolling her eyes, Raven lifted her hand and then slapped Lexa fully in the face with the file in her hand. Lexa—now back to her own skin—cried out in surprise and upset, and stumbled back.

“Okay lover-girl, enough of that. Next time please lock your door until you’re done fucking. For now, Clarke, we have an emergency. Remember those asshats you took out yesterday? I miscalculated.”

Clarke felt scolded. She glared at Raven and then Lexa, but she was already headed for the window. “Wait!” she called out, not ready for Lexa to leave. Raven threw her arms up and stormed out of the room.

“Come to me when you’re done kissing your own ass,” Raven called over her shoulder.

“Yes, Clarke?” Lexa asked, an eyebrow lifted.

“Will I see you again?”

There was that smirk again. “You can always look in the mirror, Princess.” She grinned smugly and then hopped out of the window.

Clarke hurried to the window to watch her leave, but she had already melted into the darkness. She cursed softly. “That attitude… damnit.”

Clarke went to Raven to apologize and see what the issue was. And while she walked through the hallway she frowned, wondering one thing.

Was it the sight of herself, or Lexa, that set her being on fire? Or was it both?


End file.
